QED
by sapphireswimming
Summary: There was no possible way that a man with a track record like Vlad Masters' was not destined for Hell when he finally kicked the bucket, so Crowley sets out on a mission to find out exactly why he cannot find the man's name on his enrollment list.


**Set in Supernatural's season 8, but I think the only spoiler is that purgatory exists? If that can even be considered a spoiler…?**

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**QED**

December 30, 2013

_ Quod Est Demonstratum - that which we have set out to prove_

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Vlad was at his desk, head buried among reams of paper spread across his desk for him to check and double check and cross reference the columns and figures to his heart's content. He did have plenty of underlings in the mayoral office who did the most banal work for him, but some things couldn't be trusted to be reviewed by full humans, and, therefore, given the circumstances, much of the work was fit for no one's eyes but his own.

Besides, the old adage did hold true: if you want something done right…

But in order for things to be done right, he needed peace and quiet in this infernal political office and had strictly ordered all of his many secretaries to keep everyone out of his suite at all costs until further notice.

Which was why it was so surprising that there was someone in the room with him now. He hadn't even heard the door open. But, then again, perhaps that was not so surprising, given the prickle crawling up his spine. His visitor wasn't human. It wasn't a ghost, either, not quite the right feeling, but he hadn't gotten to this position in the world without being able to identify other supernatural creatures who were just as evil as he was.

To think that Jack still thought the world revolved around humans and ghosts. How naïve to think that they were the only creatures to inhabit this earth. He had learned long ago that this was not the case and though his dealings with… other otherworldly beings had been kept to a minimum up to this point—after all, how many slobbering night dwellers were capable of acting as civilized as those in the circles he frequented and why would he bother with anyone less than such?—he was familiar enough to identify them when they (rarely, thankfully; apparently they did have some degree of intelligence after all) tried to sneak up behind him.

"I had asked not to be disturbed," he called out over his shoulder, not yet looking up from his work. Testing the waters as he took control of the situation and made it clear that he was not intimidated by whoever or whatever had waltzed into his rooms uninvited.

"Well, no one told me," came the reply from a suave voice. English accent; a little coarse, but definitely cultured.

Vlad turned, then, to get a look at the speaker, carefully schooling his features so that he didn't look surprised or give anything away as he took in the sight of… whatever on earth it was behind him.

It turned out to be a man. Or at least, something that looked like a man, although there was no doubt of the sheer power that seemed to emanate from his short frame. He had short, dark brown hair and was immaculately dressed in a dark three piece suit finished with a black tie and patent leather shoes.

"Well, now you've been told," Vlad said calmly as he stared at the man standing across the room, wondering how he was going to play this.

"Why so I have," the stranger replied without moving. Just as Vlad had suspected, he wouldn't respond to well veiled threats or suggestions, even if he was intelligent enough to understand them perfectly, as was evident from the smirk on the shorter man's face.

Vlad pulled himself up to his full height and called upon his ghostly half, drawing up enough energy to send a ripple of his own waves across the room, invisible, of course, but quite evident to this other man.

The stranger shifted his weight and smiled as if he had just proven something to himself. "Interesting," he murmured.

Lifting an eyebrow, Vlad asked a follow-up question to his previous statement, "So why are you still here?"

"Because I'm still not sure what you are," the man said enigmatically as he eased his stance and began to look around the room at the Packer's colored décor and the certificates and framed photos lining the wall. For some reason, Vlad felt uncomfortably exposed as the stranger stared at the things he had put on display in his inner sanctum.

Vlad processed the odd choice of words before replying slowly, "And I know neither who nor what you are."

"Ah, ah," the small man tisked, turning back to Vlad while shaking a finger. "I asked first," he pointed out with a rather petulant smile, as if he knew he was acting like a two year old who was being completely ridiculous and was enjoying himself immensely.

Controlling his temper, Vlad donned a coolly disapproving expression as he stated, "And you are the one barging into my private office uninvited. I should at least know the identity of my unwelcome visitor."

The man nodded slowly to himself as he found this argument reasonable and jutted out his chin as he replied, "The name's Crowley."

Vlad nodded as he quickly tried to place the name and soon realized that it meant nothing to him and gave him no useful information that he hadn't already gathered for himself. "And what are you?"

"No," Crowley said, putting his hands up in front of him. "I've already told you something I didn't know. Your turn," he claimed, pointing a finger toward the billionaire.

"Vlad Masters," Vlad said airily. "Now…"

"I already knew that," Crowley interrupted. "What, you think I don't do my homework before coming up here?" he sneered.

Vlad refrained from telling the man that that must be the case since he obviously didn't know that Vlad was a half ghost since he was barging around his office asking what on earth he was. Vlad merely quirked an eyebrow and waited until the small man felt uncomfortable.

"Fine," the stranger huffed with a theatrical sigh before snapping his fingers.

At first, nothing happened. Then, a puff of chilly air filled the room as a door burst open and a huge, dark smoky shape ambled toward Crowley's side. It was a massive dog, but like no dog Vlad had ever seen, with paws nearly as big as his head and claws to match, glowing red eyes, and a slobbering fanged mouth that looked sure to give him rabies if it left him in enough pieces to still catch anything. And where a ghost dog would have been a sickly green color, this creature was pitch black with charcoal tendrils rising from its hide like steam.

He gulped, finally realizing that he was up against his match. This man was powerful and was in command of even more powerful forces than Vlad had at his beck and call. It would not do to force a confrontation between them without knowing more about his perhaps-opponent. Yet, it was also not wise to reveal the secrets of his own abilities to a man who could well use them to crush him or ruin him. He would have to tread carefully.

"That's… quite the mutt you have there," Vlad said, forcing himself not to clench his hands into defensive fists.

Crowley raised an impressed eyebrow and considered Vlad in a new light. "You can see 'im?" He turned to look at his dog with a look of fondness the billionaire found incomprehensible, given its ghastly appearance. "How very interesting, indeed."

"But that still doesn't explain what you are, Crowley," Vlad reminded the man, who seemed lost in thought.

"I would have thought it was rather obvious, my showing up here with my pup," Crowley said as he affectionately clapped the creature on the back.

"Not to one such as I, apparently," Vlad said as self deprecatingly as he'd ever allowed in his life.

"Ah, and what such a one are you?" Crowley mused. "That is the question of the hour, isn't it?"

"Not mine," Vlad responded. "I want to know what _you_ are."

"Oh, so uppity, these creatures, aren't they, boy?" Crowley sighed to his pet. "Think they can get away with demanding everything." Then he turned to his dog as if seeing him for the first time and frowned. "You should leave the grownups to talk. If there isn't a deal you can take over, tell whoever's working the office that you can play with whatever's on rack 1298-c. Been giving us some trouble lately. Going on three years now. Stupid things never learn that it's all pointless, do they?"

Looking up again from his soliloquy, Crowley snapped his fingers and the hideous spectral shape disappeared without a trace, back to wherever it had come from.

"So where were we?" He asked, fixing his attention upon Vlad once more.

"I believe that we were at a stalemate, where both of us want to find out what the other is, but neither of us is willing to say first," Vlad answered with a smirk. Crowley nodded. "But," Vlad continued, "As you are the one in my rooms, taking up my time, I believe that you should be the one to go first. After all, I am a busy man." He gestured to his desk, littered with papers of all kinds.

"So you are," Crowley crooned, his voice taking on a flattering note. "Vlad Masters, billionaire before he was thirty. Founder of Masters Corp and Dalv Enterprises, which have both swallowed up numerous businesses that had no intention of ever selling or merging."

Vlad was highly concerned about how much this man seemed to know about his business record. His names weren't even on Dalv's hierarchies. He had made sure to have at least one company off the radar in case something happened. He was a man with a back up plan for his back up plan. Because while he never lost, Vlad wasn't going to be one of those stupid men who lost everything in one fell swoop because they believed themselves invincible.

How this man had tracked his businesses back to him was a worrying thought. Having the resources to do that was simply frightening and what he might do with that information or what else he would no doubt be able to find out could spell his ruin. Yes, overshadowing and blackmail worked to get him where he was without a problem, but he was only able to stay on top of the world because no one was willing or able to reveal his underhanded dealings to the press who would have loved an opportunity to kick him off his well polished pedestal. There were only so many people he could overshadow at a single time to persuade to ignore any given foible or rumor, after all.

"As I said, very impressive." Crowley said. "But even more impressive is the fact that you've done all of it on your own. Managed to make every single signature, get everyone to agree to your manipulative egotistical plan along the way, without ever turning to me or mine."

Vlad fought to keep his forehead smooth as he tried to translate what this man was saying into information he could understand. Was this a business rival, another behind the scenes operator looking to take over Vlad's extensive holdings? Had he taken some of this man's property without realizing it?

"And why would I have ever gone to you?" Vlad asked. "Who are you? What do you do?" he pressed. "I've never heard of you and trust me when I tell you that I've heard of everyone who's anyone."

Crowley grinned coldly. "Not everyone, love. There's a whole _world _out there that you don't know."

"Don't be so sure of that," Vlad replied smugly, thinking of purple doors floating in a vast expanse of swirling green ectoplasm.

Crowley's eyebrow shot up and he replaced a football he had taken off of one of the shelves lining the wall. "Indeed? You'll have to tell me all about it and then maybe I'll believe you."

Vlad smiled flatly. "And here I was thinking that you were actually clever."

"I am," Crowley shot back immediately. Vlad had to consciously make the effort to not flinch at the power of the yell.

"Well, I can hardly believe that they'd let you keep your position if that's the best you can do," Vlad argued, blindly fishing for information about what this man did and who he worked for.

"There's no one else around to 'let' me keep my position, as you call it," Crowley sneered. "I am my own boss. Just like you."

"Running a major corporation?" Vlad challenged.

"Just like you," the shorter man allowed with a tilt of his head. "Except mine is bigger."

Vlad raised an eyebrow. "No one is bigger than me."

"Not here, perhaps," Crowley allowed. "But let's face it, you're just the biggest fish in a very, very small pond. You don't even have a monopoly."

"And you… do?" Vlad asked, clearly not believing the implied claim.

"Yes," the man said bitingly. "Everything runs just the way I say it does and everyone works under me. I get everything that should be coming to me. Except…" Crowley's eyes narrowed as he trailed off.

"Except what?" Vlad asked, unaffected by the scowl of the well dressed man.

"Well, that's what I'm here to talk about," Crowley said mysteriously.

"What do you mean?"

"You've done some really horrible things in your life, Masters," he stated bluntly. "Cheating, lying, dirty double dealing," he began enumerating the half ghost's many crimes, "not to mention the attempted murders of Jack Fenton and the kidnapping of his family and all of the other failed plots in your unsuccessful attempts to bring the nucleus of your own family unit together. Not including, of course, the highly illegal, if quite brilliant," he added on a side note, "cloning station you have in your basement."

Vlad paled. There was no way that anyone could have known this. Skulker, the only other being in existence he trusted in any capacity, didn't even know the half of it and he kept his own secrets under wraps.

"Have I summed it up quite nicely?" Crowley asked, grinning at Vlad's discomfort. "You're an extremely despicable person. And that's why you should be mine, even without having dealt with any of my underlings. But here's the thing," and here his tone became suddenly dark and menacing, the waves of power surging along with his anger, "No one can find your name anywhere in my ledgers and I have sent all of the office boys who couldn't find it outside to get flayed alive for the next century or so for general incompetence. Because how could you not be there? But then I finally sat down to pour through them myself." His face hardened. "And you're not bloody there!"

Crowley stepped forward and demanded, "So what are you, Vlad Masters, and why do I not have your soul?"

"Why should anyone but me have my soul?" Vlad finally managed to say, stammering the first of many questions that arose from the man's bizarre speech.

"Because your soul doesn't belong to you, does it?" Crowley nearly pulled at his hair in exasperation. Perhaps that was why he kept it so short. "Not at the end of the day. It either goes to Him or to me and there's no possible way that you've earned a ticket upstairs with your record. So it's mine, isn't it? But why don't I have it?"

"But why on earth would you have a claim to it?"

"Because I'm the king of Hell!" Crowley roared and at the revelation, flames shot up around the room, engulfing Vlad in a blazing ring.

Instinctively, he pulled up a shield to protect him from the searing heat of the fire and as soon as he did so, he knew he had made a mistake because Crowley's entire countenance changed. Just as quickly as he had worked himself into a frenzy, he calmed down, once again his former unflappable and satisfied self. The flames stayed in place and he looked keenly at Vlad even while appearing to lean back and enjoy a long well deserved rest.

"Well, then," he whispered as he examined the shield that Vlad still held steady since the revelation of this ability had already been made and the flames were just as deadly as had ever been. He briefly made eye contact before returning to his new find as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd seen in centuries. The king of Hell passed through his own flames unhurt and flicked his eyes this way and that to toss flaming balls and tendrils toward Vlad so that the billionaire had to manipulate his powers to continually protect himself.

"That explains it," Crowley said. "Not human," he mused under his breath. "You get to go to Monster Hell when you die. Don't belong to me or the big guy. Huh. But the question is, of course, what kind of monster you are. Because I haven't seen any that are able to do that, yeah?" he winked and stepped closer, but then, Vlad struck out with an arm and caught Crowley around the throat, quickly pulling up a shield around him to protect from any fiery ramifications.

Crowley managed to look surprised as this turn of events, but wasn't all that concerned until Vlad's arm began sparking with energy that crawled up toward Crowley's face. He squirmed to get away, mentally calling up more fire, these flames with menacing crimson and black edges, but Vlad's shield held fast and didn't allow it to come through to affect him.

"Now listen to me, Crowley," Vlad hissed, barely audible above the flames and the electric current crackling along his arm.

"I don't belong to you. I don't belong to anyone. I don't care what kind of "monster" you think I am, but stay away from me and my life and my business because you may be king of Hell and you may have some pretty big doggies at your beck and call, but I am more than a match for you and if you come back again or do… anything without my permission, I don't care who you think you are but I will come after you," he warned.

Crowley was purple in the face and flailing as the taller man held him up effortlessly, his toes just barely scraping along the edge of the floor looking for purchase.

"Do you understand?" Vlad asked.

Crowley nodded quickly.

"And as soon as I let you go, you will take your fire with you and leave?" More nodding. Vlad shook the man for added emphasis until he was rattling his head for him.

"Then get out," he ordered as he flung the king of Hell across the room where he began coughing. Vlad stared impassively with arms crossed as the man looked over his murderous eyes and abruptly winked out of sight.

He waited a few moments before judging himself well and truly safe from the man's return. And then he collapsed against his desk and let out a tense breath as he cradled his face with his hands and considered how lucky he had been to get out of the encounter unscathed.

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**Not such a good idea to tick of the king of Hell, there, Vlad. Not when he's got hordes of demons at his beck and call because you don't have _nearly_ that many ghosts in your employ.**

**Also, I have no idea if Vlad's ectoshield would work against demonic energy. Probably not, but I decided that since his own powers seem to be electrical (and therefore kinda sorta almost fire based and yes I am aware that this is really stretching things) he would have experimented enough to know how to protect himself from such things regardless of their origin. Probably wouldn't stop a hell hound, though, or any non-ghostly thing thrown at him. I dunno how that would work, though. Lots to think about, haha, and it doesn't help that the physics of the DP universe never seem to be consistent. But that was my reasoning. And I needed to end their little chat somehow without Vlad being totally outclassed, so I figure he's got a couple things Crowley hasn't seen and will never understand without knowing what a halfa is first.**


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